


After the War

by At_the_moment



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - War, Burn-victim!Mark, Childhood Friends, God was this a bitch to edit, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Insecurities, Loss, Love, M/M, Minor Character Death, Nationalism (Mentioned), Nightmares, Poorly treated veterans, Racism (mentioned), Reference bombings, Reference rioting, Referenced drafting, Referenced raiding, Self-Hatred, Ten-year-reunion, Veteran!Mark, War and Peace, assholes, back to normalcy, maybe PTSD… idk yet, mostly off screen, on screen deaths will occure in flashback sequence., referenced rationing, regrets of war, trigger warnings?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-14
Updated: 2016-11-11
Packaged: 2018-08-20 14:31:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 18,457
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8252548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/At_the_moment/pseuds/At_the_moment
Summary: Wake up! Say good morning to that sleepy person lying next to youIf there's no one there, then there's no one there, but at least the war is overIt's us – yes, we're back again, here to see you through, 'til the days endAnd if the night comes, and the night will come, well at least the war is over
Lift your head and look out the windowStay that way for the rest of the day and watch the time goListen! The birds sing! Listen! The bells ring!All the living are dead, and the dead are all livingThe war is over and we are beginning...





	1. The War is Over

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I slaved over this for a good three months and the fact that this chapter is finally finished has made me so damn happy!  
> If you find that the rating has to be changed or specific tags need added please tell me. Because this deals with some heavy subjects (mostly in the next chapter) I don't want people to be off put. So tell me if I need to add stuff! Thank you
> 
> And thanks for checking this out!

Jack had been walking home from the grocery store that he’d taken refuge in after the sky opened up in torrential down pour.

It had been a long time since this place had had this much food, so he decided to stock up while he was there. With the rationing from the war, some places even burning crops to keep people from overstocking, grocery stores became almost barren, with just a few cans of broth, loaves of bread, a few cartons of eggs and small portions of meat in their respective sections and any means of preservatives, (of human mind or food) were stored in the back and had to be specifically asked for.

Most other things you had to grow yourself in your Victory Gardens or trade between neighbors. Jack had never had a green thumb even if everything about him would say otherwise. He did live up to the stereotype however, of being able to grow some mean potatoes. He traded these with his neighbors for carrots, cabbage, and other vegetables. He used the money he’d made during his time making computers for the meat, which as you’d expect, the most expensive thing to buy of the food necessities but coffee and salt were also very expensive. They had to go without sugar and tea, as these were not necessary. So Jack bought the first carton of sugar cookies he could get his hands on and a few packets of tea leaves.

Almost ten years of war and rationing. Riots in the streets some nights, protestors begging for the war to stop. Jack stayed in on those nights, good friends, Felix Kjellberg and his girlfriend Marzia, had been killed in one. There were even black outs after the first wave of bombers hit. Jack could only imagine what it was like on the war front.

He was first generation of an Irish immigrant family. One of the things they made them do when they first came, was dye their hair so that they could tell which nationality they were. Jack was forced to dye his hair green, Felix blue. The only choices were how much you wanted dyed. Felix just got a small blue strip in the front, Jack did his entire top and shaved the sides.

When the war started the law stated those born in the U.S. that had three generations prior that were also U.S. born (an old grandfather clause as they say) were the ones heading off to the front. It didn’t matter if you were male, female, black, white, German-Korean, as long as you were an able bodied, pure blooded American (Oxymoron much?) you were shipped out with a week’s notice. So he, Felix and others like them, could not go off and fight.

Those that stayed behind were assimilated farther or cared for, put to work wherever they were needed with no choice of their own. Jack was put to work making computers, as that’s just about all he knew how to do besides play video games. For extra money, and with the help of some government representatives, Jack made anonymous support videos for the war. Many random citizens would do this under false names to get a little extra money from the government.

Jack, being unable to go off, lost a lot of school friends. After all, this started when he was seventeen. The friends he’d had that were eighteen and older were suddenly pulled from school and gone the next day, off to fight. There were some that had to stay behind, Felix was one. Due to fear of immigrants, real or unreal, they had been subjected to rigorous testing during those times. Much like the military, they were trained in whatever way they could, but mostly they carted supplies.

Jack sighed, reminiscing, the thought of war brought some sad memories, losing Felix at age twenty of course had been hard, watching people get thrown about in the streets because of the certain color of their hair, even out of top story windows. It scared Jack to think that had he been pink or blue, (nationalities of the enemy) things could have gone worse than they did. Jack did have to change his name however at one point. He used to be Sean William McLoughlin but apparently his name got out with one of the propaganda videos he made. That’s when he became Jack and moved to a greener populated area.

He also remembers the day the news came back that the war was over, that the troops were coming home. Jack had gone out into the streets where multicolored haired people of all colors stood in the streets cheering. For weeks there had been celebration, most not even going to work for the duration. Jack did however, because he knew he needed to. He wasn’t well off to begin with, a few extra cents wouldn’t hurt him. The celebration ended when recounts of the war were shared through the media. The US. Government had shut down anything that wasn’t propaganda when the war began. Now the war crimes committed by both sides were put on the news, there was anger and outrage at the US soldiers. It was Vietnam all over again.

Riots were happening again and Congress passed a new bill into law: all war vets had to get their hair dyed red, to show the innocent blood they’d spilled. When the troops returned home, whole families fell apart. These men and women were forced out of their homes, beaten, insulted. Pushed to the outskirts of society and neglected.

Jack couldn’t believe it when it happened. He remembered hearing the stories, but never could he believe that the people he’d known since elementary school could ever commit such crimes. These were his friends!

For fuck's sake, these were their families. How could everyone just turn off their humanity. It had sickened Jack.

Every time he’d see a red haired person begging for food or money, God help him but he couldn’t deny them. So what if that got him a few nasty glares or a few verbal insults, who was he to care? He already had that to begin with. The look of pure gratitude, every genuine ‘God bless you!’ was worth it.

Snapping out of his thoughts he placed his items on the counter.

Jack looked out the window as he checked out. The sun was shining again, as it always did after a storm. He was sure he’d see a rainbow. Jack sighed, grabbed his bags and thanked the cashier, also of green hair. He walked out.

His apartment wasn’t far from here, a few blocks maybe. He realized that the sun was beginning to set, casting a beautiful orange glow on the world. A faint breeze that smells like wet concrete drifted up. In this moment, just before twilight, Jack found a peace he hadn’t felt since before the war. A dreamy, calm smile crossed his face as Jack closed his eyes and stood for a moment to let the peace sink in.

Jack hadn’t realized how fragile the moment was until he was yanked back into a dark alleyway, so dark that he couldn’t see his assailant’s face. Jack, dropping his bags, gasped and went to cry out but someone quickly covered his mouth. He was thrust up against the brick and concrete wall. His heart pounding hard against his chest as he struggled against the strong grip. He felt tears surface at the corner of his eyes. He’d survived riots, police brutality, raids, and air bombings, just to be robbed, stabbed, and left for dead in some alleyway after the war.

The warmth of the assailant’s breath lingered on Jack’s hair like dew. The dampness of the entire attacker's body left the same impression. “Sean.”

Jack froze. That name… that voice! Jack stopped his struggling and stared widely at the man pinning him, now he realized, lightly to the wall. Jack’s breath caught at the thought… This couldn’t be…

“God even after all these years,” The man continued in a small voice, leaning in closer enough for Jack to feel his breath on his face, “You’re still so… pretty…” The assailant ran rough fingers gently though Jack’s green hair and over the shell of his ear. The man's breath stuttered for a moment as the hand suddenly laid itself heavily on Jack’s shoulder.

Jack shook his head and began to rustle around in his pockets. He quickly took out his phone and turned on the flash light.

The man’s face was suddenly lit up and he quickly looked to the right, stepping back.

Jack held back his gasp, but only just. There, now with a beard, cut much like his own, dark hair with fridges of red (the color associated with the veterans of the war) soft, deep brown eyes and pink pouty lips. Jack knew this face. “Mark.” A breath more than a name.

The man was looking away from the light, hiding half his face, but at the sound of his name, his head twitched and his eye looked to Jack, a flash of something in it.

Jack squinted and moved himself and tried to position the flashlight to see the entire face of one whom he assumed was someone he knew.

The man he believed to be Mark remained still as Jack angled the flashlight so that his entire face was lit up. There was a small gasp that escaped Jack’s lips. Half of this man’s face was burnt, badly. But still, there was the same colored eye, brown.

“Mark.” The name came out a bit stronger. Jack managed to put his phone away, instead of dropping it, before throwing his arms around Mark’s neck. “God I missed you.”

Mark swayed for a moment, setting his weight back onto his heels. Then he put his arms around Jack’s waist, pulling him in close.

Jack felt a wetness against his neck. “Sean, Sean oh God! I didn’t mean to scare you, honest. I just, I saw you and I just, I just couldn’t stay away anymore!”

Jack shushed him, his own tears getting caught in the creases of his nose. His old childhood friend, the man who had claimed his heart all the way back in freshman year, the one friend he’d been the saddest to see go. He’d never got to tell him what he felt before he left, and he thought he’d never get another opportunity to. Yet here he was. Mark Edward Fischbach was back in his arms, right where he should be.

“Oh Mark.” Jack pulled back slightly to put his hands on Mark’s cheeks, wiping away the tears.

Earth met ocean as the two held their gazes. Mark leaned into Jack’s left hand, holding his right cheek, the one marred by scars.

God damn it, those brown eyes were just asking Jack to kiss the lips below them, Mark's cold, damp, and clammy exterior be damned, Jack knew there was a warmth underneath it all.

Jack was torn, sure the two had been close, a relationship balanced between platonic and romantic. But nothing had ever tripped the line to romantic. Jack had never given away his feelings so what made him think Mark wanted it? It had been ten years of absence with no contact. It was a miracle either remembered the other, or cared to do so. Ten years of chaos, war, devastation.

But maybe that was all the more reason for Jack to lean in and press gently against Mark’s notably chapped lips. Ten years and it still felt like they knew each other, feeling right to be back in each other’s arms. At least that was from Jack’s perspective anyway.

It was when Mark began to worry his lower lip, looking ready to pull away, maybe run, when Jack made his decision.

The distance was closed. Wars, oceans, prejudices, a few millimeters, it didn’t matter now that there were none. It was soft, chaste, but god was it not the best one Jack’s had in forever.

Mark seemed frozen, his lips stiff for only but a moment before hard taffy melted to butter. Their lips danced! Twirling around each other, pressing further.

Jack was suddenly up against the wall again, his hands hold Mark’s head, cradling it. His thumbs made little circle patterns on his cheeks, wiping away stray tears. The rest of his fingers that could reach hairs twirled up in the damp strands, anything to anchor him to Mark. To know that he was there, real, alive, and pressed wonderfully against him.

They didn’t move far when they came up for air. They remained close, a breath away. The way Mark was looking at Jack made him weak in the knees in the best ways possible. They were both breathing heavily and Jack had to tear his eyes away to look up at the sky, a darkening navy blue sky speckled with stars. Fucking hell, what even was today?

Jack felt Mark put his head in the crook of his shoulder, still panting slightly. It was only seconds before Mark’s forefinger found its way to Jack’s chin to pull him back down to earth for another kiss.

The two near-strangers melted into one another. The two pulled back every now and then to press smaller kisses to lips. Between kisses and deep breaths Mark murmured, “Do you know… how in love I was… with you… all those years ago?”

Jack gasped at the words and nearly jumped away from the kiss Mark pulled him into after he finished the statement.

“M-Mark!” Jack panted out. He dragged his lips away, staring down into wide vulnerable eyes. Jack’s thumbs again wiped away tears tracks on the cheeks, “Mark?” Quieter now, Jack waited for Mark to continue.

With trembling lips Mark spoke again, “I, I love you… I have since we were teenagers. I just… I wanted to tell you before I left.” Mark buried his face into the nook of Jack’s shoulder again, “But I couldn’t lose you like that! If I had lost you as a friend then, I don’t know if I could have ever found it in me to come back home.”

Jack cradled Mark’s head. With Mark leaning so heavily into him, it was then that Jack realized he wasn’t just pinned to the wall but his feet weren’t touching the ground. He had wrapped his legs around Mark’s waist.

Mark had stopped talking. He was quiet against Jack’s neck. Breathing deeply to rebuild his resolve, Jack touched Mark’s chin, “Hey, hey look at me.”

Mark raised his face to look up at Jack who sent him a smile that he hoped the poor man saw, “I love you too. I have since freshman year. I didn’t think I’d ever get to tell you.” Once again, Jack brought Mark into another chaste kiss.

As their lips parted Jack heard Mark sigh, “So um… how’s your family?” Jack tried to make light talk as Mark reluctantly pulled away and set Jack down.

“Uh-um,” Mark stuttered, beginning to wring his hands, “T-Thomas, he and mom um… Th-they’re gone.” Mark began to cry again and immediately Jack pulled him back into a hug as he continued, “Tom d-died early in the war, he was in the first waves. And s-someone broke into my m-mom’s home during a raid. I-I haven’t been able to find out where my step-mom and the rest have gone.”

Jack didn’t have to be told what happened to Mark’s father, a little before the war started Mr. Fischbach had died of cancer.

Jack gave Mark a squeeze, “Most of my family fled to Ireland, haven’t heard from them since. Malcolm's still around somewhere though, he calls me sometimes…. Felix is gone.”

Mark pulled back a little bit to look at Jack, searching his eyes.

Jack looked away, “Three years in, during a riot. Marzia too. The rest left with you.” Jack took a breath and looked back, “Have you been drifting?”

Mark nodded looking a tad sheepish, head tilted down.

Jack smiled fondly, “Do you need a place to stay?”

Mark’s head shot up, a hopeful look in his gorgeous brown eyes. Nodding again, not breaking eye contact, he still looked sheepish.

Jack giggled a little, taking Mark’s hand, “Well, can I offer you a place to stay with me?”

Mark nodded a bit more enthusiastically.

“Okay.” Jack said quietly as he pulled Mark out of the alleyway they were in and began to pick up the groceries he’d dropped, and honestly forgot about until he stepped out into the street light.

He saw Mark’s blush that he hadn’t seen before grow darker as he also began to pick up the paper bags and put produce into them again.  Their hands brushed as they went for the cookies. Jack smiled at Mark. He also saw Mark duck back into the alleyway to grab a dark duffle bag, probably all that he had.

Each had a bag. Jack shifted its weight into one arm and took Mark’s free hand. Jack tugged the red haired man forward and lead him down the street to his home.

. . .

The door opened and Jack flicked on the light and dropped the keys into a little bowl. He stepped through the threshold followed closely by Mark. “Home sweet home.” It was a little one-bedroom apartment that combined the living room and kitchen with a small corner bathroom and hallway closet.

They set the groceries bags on the counter and began to unload. A silence, not uncomfortable, between them as they did.

Jack ordered Mark soon after they were done unloading to change into dry clothes. He directed him to the bathroom and a few minutes later Mark came back out in dry clothes, his hair still a bit damp.

Mark set his bag down by the table and chairs as Jack began to put vegetables and steak bites into a skillet and a bit of oil. As that cooked the two couldn’t help but open the cookies and snag a few to ruin their dinners for the first time in a long time.

Still though, the silence between giggles was disheartening. There wasn’t much to be said, they’d been at war for so long, what could they talk about other than how relived they were that it was over? Jack sighed. He wanted to get to know this new Mark, the one with red hair, but at the same time afraid to push. He’d heard about what had happened overseas, it wasn’t good. He didn’t want Mark freaking out, yelling at him, or running. Jack knew vaguely that many of the soldiers that came home tended to come back with mental disorders, and with the carnage, Jack couldn’t blame them.

Had the war really changed Mark? From the display prior, it didn’t appear so. He was always impulsive, reckless, and loved scaring Jack. Still, a few of the things he’d said didn’t sound quite right: _Pretty, I couldn’t stay away_. Jack was worried about his friend. But if they were going to talk about the changes then Jack would have to evaluate himself as well.

Had _he_ changed?

Had the bombings, losing his friends and family, everything horrible, and maybe not so horrible things that had happened over the years; changed him?

He thought back to who he was in high school. A loud, energetic kid wanting to help change the world for the better anyway he could. The ambition for the future had been to help people, and this had been inspired by Mark himself. That is what he’d been before the war.

But he had still only been a teenager then, and the next ten years of his adult hood had been chaos; literal war. He hadn’t ‘discovered himself’ like most adults do. No, he’d discovered exactly what he was like under the absolute worst circumstances. And he found that, he still had the ambition to help. The loud energetic kid was gone, the somber but still happy adult now took his place.

Happy… yes, Jack was happy, and maybe he shouldn’t be, but he was.

Still, even after ten years, he remained largely the same. He was compassionate and sincere, willing to help in anyway he could. Maybe he did want to be that loud, energetic kid again, honestly, but he was very happy with the fact that he hadn’t changed all that much.

With that self-analysis done, he felt he was ready to see if his best friend had changed.

The veggies and meat was done. Jack grabbed the wooden spoon he’d used to stir and began to dish out the food. The two sat down and dug in.

After the first few bites that were practically inhaled, Mark moaned a little and Jack looked up to raise an eyebrow at him.

Blushing Mark put a hand over his mouth, “Its-it’s really good Sean.” He looked away from his friend and continued to eat like a starved man.

Jack paused his meal for a moment, setting down his fork. He looked to his friend, folding his hands, “Mark?”

Mark’s eyes snapped to his, but almost immediately looked away, “Yeah?”

“Well, um. Listen, there was an incident a while back and… I don’t go by Sean anymore. It’s Jack now.” Jack said honestly, “I just thought maybe I should let you know. In case you wonder why my neighbors call me Jack.” He bit his lip.

Mark was staring at him, a fried green bean hanging from his lips. “Oh. U-um, okay.”

“Y-you can still call me Sean, just, just in private though, I don’t need the Fed on my ass again.” Jack chuckled weakly and sent a small smile to his friend in hopes of getting over the awkward tension suddenly settling in the room.

It helped a little, Mark was smiling slightly as he looked down at his food, “Okay.”

Jack’s smile widened a bit and they ate in silence for a few more minutes.

Jack felt like he should break it again because he really wanted to talk about them. They kissed, said their ‘I love you(s)’ but now what?

Mark had nearly finished his plate while Jack wasn’t even halfway finished. He watched as Mark eat the rest and Jack quickly took the plate to fill it back up with the rest of the food that was left in the pan. As he did this he asked, “Mark. Could you tell me a bit of what happened after you left, between then and now?”

Mark looked at him in silence for a moment, mouth slightly parted.

Jack sat the plate back down and Mark followed the movements. Jack sat back down and continued to eat.

Once Mark had gathered his thoughts he picked his fork back up and put another bite full into his mouth before he began to talk. “Well, I was shipped off senior year. I’ve been trying to get a GED but with all the negativity towards veterans I have to rely heavily on the government, and they’re just a bunch of helpful assholes right now.”

Jack chuckled at Mark’s tone, clearly meaning it sarcastically. Looked like the sass master was still around.

“I’ll be lucky to get it by next fall, if ever. I’ve also had to rely on them for food stamps and means of getting jobs, I’m sure you’ve noticed that hasn’t worked out fantastically.” Mark began to push the food around on his plate as he spoke.

Jack reached over and took his unoccupied hand. Mark looked up and saw Jack smiling at him. “I’m here for you. I’ll help in whatever way I can.”

Mark smiled back at that. “Thanks,” He paused to look around. “For everything.”

Jack smiled widened. He gave the hand a comforting squeeze then went back to eating as Mark continued.

“I’ve been camping out in crappy apartments, with what little money I have. The landlord just today kicked me out. I was searching for another place when it began to rain… and that’s when I saw you.” The way Mark looked up at him after that statement had Jack on cloud nine.

Mark blushed as Jack looked back at him, “And you know the rest.”

Jack nodded. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to know more. That had summed up everything pretty nicely. Though Jack did take note of how Mark avoided talking directly about the war. He supposed it didn’t matter. It was over what more was to be said? “I’m glad you saw me.” Jack smiled.

They finished the rest of their meal and washed the dishes; Jack rinsed, Mark dried.

That’s when Jack pulled Mark onto his couch by his hand and sat him down. “Mark?” He asked.

The red haired man looked at him, seeming to sense something in Jack’s tone, shifted in his seat uncomfortably.

Jack took a breath, “Is there anything else you’d like to talk about?”

Mark blinked, putting a finger to his chin in thought, “Well, what have you been up to?”

Jack nodded, “Growing potatoes, making computers, participating in propaganda to keep my head above water, surviving riots and raids…” Jack thought back to the first time there was a raid… he never did find out what happened to the guy that had attacked him. He shrugged, it had been too long ago to dwell on.

“You had to change your name.” Mark stated putting his hands over top of Jack’s.

Jack nodded again, “But I haven’t changed. It’s just been a long time since I had to opportunity to be so energetic and happy.” He squeezed Mark’s hands smiling at him.

Mark smiled back.

Still though Jack wasn’t satisfied. He wanted to push, to let Mark know that he could talk to him about anything he ever wanted. Jack took another breath and asked, “Mark, do you want to talk about what happened during the war?”

Jack saw Mark tense and light leave those usually bottomless brown eyes. He watched as the man across from him shook his head. Jack sighed and leaned forward on his knees. He took Mark’s face in his hands. He tried to keep his eyes trained on his friend's. “Mark, you know you can talk to me about anything. I’ve heard all the horror stories. You aren’t scaring me away.”

Mark held Jack’s gaze. He put his hand to Jack’s on his right side. Jack smiled fondly and leaned a bit farther to place a gentle kiss on his forehead. Leaning back Jack sat back and waited.

Mark looked to the right, breathing beginning to get heavy. “It… it was a lot of fire, death. Nothing I could stop on my own I… I don’t know how to describe it. I remember feeling, numb? Cold? At the beginning it was like the harshness of reality was dragging knives over my skin, sending goosebumps down my arms and tingles in my chest. Or maybe it was the blood I felt drying and cracking over my skin? But after so many years of that, I couldn't feel it anymore. I watched so much destruction… whole towns get leveled, with people still inside them...”

Jack kept his focus trained on Mark, watching how he moved, observing the twitches and tensions run through his body as he spoke.

“We’d march for hours, then if we couldn’t get to the next town we’d just camp out in holes we dug that evening. I wasn’t always in combat; near the end of the war I was mostly escorting prisoners to camps. But at the beginning… it was bad…” Mark stopped talking. He just stared past Jack’s head.

Jack watched his eyes glaze over and he immediately squeezed Mark’s hands, “Mark? Hey, you’re okay.” He leaned up to touch his face again. Mark’s gaze snapped back to focus, a bit too quickly and suddenly tears were streaming down his face.

Jack quickly wrapped him up into a hug and whispered in his ear, “It’s okay. Hey, hey you’re okay.”

Mark sobbed into his shoulder. Words, not always coherent, came falling out of his mouth. The gist of what Jack got was Mark crying for people he’d watch die.

“A m-machine gunner! And suddenly _boom!_ H-he’s gone. Two w-went out to _find_ the sn-sn-sniper. I just s-sat there and c-cr _ied_. It was a h-hole, and _down_ w-we went, and th-then from be _hind_. Gunfire! At l-l-least forty of us g-gone within minutes. The scr _eaming_ of the s-sirens. He f-f-fell, I knew it, and I-I d-d-didn’t even look back. I r-ran, I _lef_ t him behind! I’m such a c-coward. He was u-under rumble after the b-bomb went off. S-s-so was the one that went b-back for him.

“They’re r-right, about the ones that came back. _We_ -we aren’t heroes, the h-heroes died-d. We’re _cow_ ards.

“I-I sh-shot oh god I shot-t them! I w-watched the bul _lets_ go through th-their _heads_! I wat _ched-d_ them d-die, and I-I felt nothing! God I’m _fuck_ ed-d up. I shouldn’t be h-here. I should-d be _dead_. Dead w-with the rest-t of them in- _in_ that field. But n-no, I hid. I hid under the de _ad_ b-body-y of my s-sergeant!”

Jack held Mark has he rambled. He kissed at Mark’s hairline by his ears, continuing to whisper his responses; that Mark was fine, that he was a wonderful person, that he loved him.

“I couldn’t-t save them- _m-m_! I killed them! I would-d rather h-have been h-h-h _ere_! N-not out there with the b-b-bombs-s-z and _gun_ fire, the _cold_ and _blood_.” Mark dissolved into tears, loud sobs ripped from his throat, no more words could make it past the lump in his esophagus.

Jack held him tight, hoping to convey how much he loved him in the simple gesture. Hoping the warmth of his body and the tight but gentle grip was enough. After a few minutes and Mark beginning to hiccup Jack couldn’t take it anymore.

He pulled Mark’s head back, feeling the man tense as he looked him in his dark brown eyes. After a brief pause Jack leaned in and captured Mark’s lips. He felt Mark's breath hitch before he melted into the touch of Jack's hands on his cheeks.

The kiss was desperate, as if each were seeking confirmation of the other.

Just like when he’d been pressed against the alley wall Jack rubbed his thumbs over Mark’s cheeks. He moved his lips urgently over Mark’s pushing into him, trying to convey what could never be spoken in entirety.

The cursed lungs of humans forced the two to pull apart and breathe, they had lasted as long as they could.

Mark let out a puff, tears still dripping from his eyes, as he seemed to fall limply onto Jack’s shoulder; exhausted.

Jack felt just as emotionally drained. He was ready to go to bed. He glanced at the wall clock. The day had ended long ago, and night was here. He sighed and patted Mark’s head, no longer wet. After a moment he slowly pulled Mark away from him so that he could look at him again.

The man’s eyes were red and a bit puffy. He leaned into Jack’s touch, favoring the right side.

Jack sighed again and smiled at his new house companion. He had one bedroom, one bed, and he honestly didn’t mind the thought of sleeping in the same bed as the man in front of him. He kissed Mark on the nose and said, “Let’s go to bed.”

Mark took a deep breath, nuzzling Jack’s hand.

Jack’s grin widened and he slowly got up, Mark following closely behind. Mark grabbed his duffle bag and Jack took Mark’s hand to lead him to his bedroom.

Mark set the duffle down and looked around the bedroom behind him as Jack began to undress. He took off his shirt and slipped off his pants, leaving him in nothing but his boxers. He went to his dresser and grabbed a pair of his fluffiest night pants. He didn't think Mark had comfy night clothing so he wanted to at least offer. They were a bit tattered and frayed but they were still warm. He turned to Mark who was looking anywhere but him. He smiled at the gentlemanly gesture and handed Mark the pants.

“I’ll go into the bathroom so you can change.” Jack shut the door and went about his nightly routine. When he exited the bathroom Mark had changed into the pants and was still standing in the middle of the room, a tad awkwardly with his duffle over his shoulder.

Jack smiled, “Your turn.”

Mark nodded and bushed passed him and Jack couldn’t help brushing his hand up Mark’s back as he passed.

Jack laid down in bed, keeping the lamp light on for Mark. He snuggled down in his covers and waited.

Mark came back in ten minutes later. He moved around the bed to the side that wasn’t full of Jack but still just stood there at the side awkwardly. Not sure if he should climb in or show himself to the couch.

Jack looked up at him from under the covers seeing his distress and made the decision for him. Jack grabbed Mark’s arm and pulled him into bed.

Mark let out a squeak as he tumbled onto the mattress beside Jack.

The green haired man smiled at the slightly distressed looking one and quickly yanked the covers up around the larger body. He clicked off the light, plunging the room into darkness as he snuggled up closer to Mark’s chest, kissing him lightly on the pectoral. He felt a little stress leave Mark. Jack fell asleep quickly after that.

. . .

Jack woke to a rustling beside him. His sleepy mind stalled for a moment. There hadn’t been another person in his bed since Malcolm stayed with him four years ago. After a few moments, the fog of sleep lifted and memories of the day previous surfaced. Jack felt a smile spread across his face. He opened his eyes to see that Mark was still asleep and seemed to have settled down.

Jack got up from the bed after a moment of staring into the dim of the room, only making out the silhouette of Mark’s face pressed into his pillow. He nearly tripped over the discarded clothes. He chuckled at the thought, thinking maybe they’d abandon their clothes like this for different reasons in the future. He went to the bathroom to brush his teeth and planned on getting ready for the rest of the day, hoping to get breakfast done before Mark woke up so maybe they could have breakfast in bed.

However, he found after brushing his teeth and showering under nice hot steamy water he just wanted to sleep again. Begrudgingly he went back to the bedroom and slid under the covers hoping to catch a few more winks of sleep and then get up for the rest of the day. But the bed was so soft and Mark was so warm, Jack ended up falling back asleep.

It was hours later when the room was lit better with sunlight from the window, that Jack woke up again to rustling, far more aware of who was in his bed this time. The rustling seemed a bit more violent, like the person wasn’t just having a dream.

Jack felt a second sleepy smile split his face. He slowly turned over, realizing sometime during his sleep he’d ended up turning away from Mark. He saw Mark looking at him, wide eyed.

For a second Mark’s eyes flashed with fear but when he seemed to register Jack’s smile he relaxed. Mark smiled back softly.

Jack slowly moved towards him, sliding until he put his hand on Mark shoulder. Jack pulled closer, whispering, “G'mornin’ sweetheart.” Before kissing Mark softly on the lips. Their lips were a bit dry from sleep but Jack was persistent. Eventually Mark wrapped his large arms around Jack and pulled him closer still.

Once the kiss grew a bit more heated, Jack swung a leg over Mark’s waist and sat up smiling widely and fondly down at the man below him. Jack wanted the moment to last for the rest of the day if not forever.

Mark’s hands were on his waist and he was looking up at the man above him as if he was an angel bathed in heavenly light. Jack felt a tingle in his chest at the look and he felt so warm even with the frigid morning air surrounding him.

Jack knew they still had a lot to talk about and work through, but that could all wait until after breakfast. And breakfast could wait until after this make-out session.

Jack rested his hands on both sides of Mark’s face, seeing the scars again but not caring. He loved this beautiful man below him. He leaned down again taking Mark’s lips to his own once more.

He felt more than heard Mark sigh through his nose and make a little sound of relief. Mark’s hands wrapped around Jack’s back, pulling him down closer so that their chests brushed.

Jack smiled into the kiss, birds were singing outside the window, bells were ringing too. But those wonderful sounds were nothing to the singing in Jack’s heart and ringing in his soul. He was so glad this is where it started for them; in his bedroom, after the war.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before ya'll start asking for it, the next chapter is Mark's POV. I did plan this from pretty much the start, so just note some little changes in the next chapter because there will be a few more things in that chapter you may not have noticed in this one. It's deliberate!
> 
> Also I got the first half of the next chapter done, and fall break is coming up! So if the planets align and fate is kind the next chapter will be up soon! 
> 
> Peace! Love! And Fanfiction! Chau!


	2. And We are Beginning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We won, or we think we did, when you went away, you were just a kid  
> And if you lost it all, and you lost it, we will still be there when the war is over
> 
> Lift your head and look out the window  
> Stay that way for the rest of the day and watch the time go  
> Listen! The birds sing! Listen! The bells ring!  
> All the living are dead, and the dead are all living  
> The war is over and we are beginning...
> 
> Here it comes! Here comes the first day! Here it comes! Here comes the first day!  
> It starts up in our bedroom after the war  
> After the war! After the war...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why do I always make Mark’s POV longer than Jack’s? I don’t like it!
> 
> This motherfucker is literally ten pages longer than the last one. I am so freaking sorry you have to read through all of this. It's so long, but if it makes you feel any better, I've read through it a couple times to edit. Uh, I hope you like this because by god was it difficult at some points. I literally finished this at 5:45 in the freaking morning, does it fucking show? 
> 
> Why do I do this to myself?

Mocha eyes snapped open. The sounds of gunfire and screams drifted off back into unconscious as heat and life came back into the man on the bed.

He hadn’t meant to go to sleep. The nightmares had just been too bad for him to really want to. Mark sat up, his eyes were itchy and his back hurt.

The mattress was lumpy and hard, springs poked him in odd places, it was honestly a wonder as to how he even fell asleep. Sure for the past two weeks he’d been running on coffee and other kinds of caffeine to keep him up. It was too bad that sometime during the war he’d had a heart attack after drinking some beer and was forced to never drink again or risk himself an early grave.

Alcohol would probably help.

Honestly it was getting to the point where he was wondering if he should forgo doctor’s orders and drink a bit, just to take the edge off.

He sighed, the sheets had been thin, he had been cold all night and of course this cheap apartment didn’t have a working heater, even though he was sure his landlord had said that heat was in the cost of the rent. He was probably getting screwed over… _again_.

Mark sighed, running a hand through his messy red and black hair. He flinched remembering its color. It was a reminder to him and warning to others. He hated it.

He looked at the clock. It was four in the morning, Mark remembers laying down in bed around three.

He sighed and got up from the uncomfortable bed. He stretched and felt his vertebrae crack into, (or perhaps out of) place. His muscles pulled and tightened until he felt a slight pain amidst the pleasure. He relaxed and the muscles contracted and a few of his joints cracked. He didn’t feel amazing, but he felt a tad bit better.

He made his way to the small bathroom. It was big enough to be a camper bathroom it was so small. He thought nothing of his small, brown crusty apartment carpet and wooden cigarette smoke soaked walls that combined the bedroom and kitchenette with one couch and a very old TV that didn’t work. He didn’t think about the closet that was the size of a middle school locker that had a potent smell of rot and decay which Mark was very familiar with. He didn’t ever open it.

It was small, his bed in view of the door and the small wooden table was in the kitchen with the nicotine covered counter and a mold infested sink with a few overhead cupboards, one holding a semi-functional microwave. The oven was rusted and had crusted food bits that were left over from the previous owners. The fridge leaked cold air and didn’t stay very cold on the inside anyway.

The little sink in the bathroom didn’t run clean water, so Mark had to brush his teeth with bottled water. The shower’s hot water was lukewarm and the toilet flushed properly only on occasion, other times over flowing for no real reason.

Mark did his best to clean himself and make himself presentable. He didn’t want to reek of body odor and he didn’t want his face and hair to be greasy. Honestly he just wanted to be accepted. He was lucky really, to have this apartment. This was better than most veterans of the war. Most were out on the streets begging for food or money. They were homeless and barely cared for in society, and the big bad government that put them into the war wasn’t doing much to help them return to normalcy.

Mark sighed as he turned off the shower and the water stopped pouring over him. He was thankful for the soap he had. He’d gotten a few bottles from a charity that had been giving them out to the veterans of the war. Dr. Bronner’s All-One.

Holy fucking shit was this stuff amazing. He’d gotten the soap bottles months ago, and he still hadn’t finished his first. And the people who had been working at the charity had been so nice. Like they actually gave a damn and genuinely wanted to help. He sometimes read the label. He swore it had over a thousand words. It was comforting, reading the label.

Unite Spaceship Earth was a common theme throughout the charity. Honestly it fit, after the war people had been torn apart. Earth and all its people, especially here in the US needed some uniting, even if it was such an impossible dream.

Mark wanted hope. He wanted to feel loved again, like he was doing good. But what was he even doing? He relied on the government for food stamps because most of his money was going to rent. He was desperately trying for his GED since the war had yanked him out of senior year of high school. He was taking online classes at the library down town. A good portion of his money was going towards books for that as well.

He bounced around in the job departments. During the war he’d basically had college level training to become an engineer when he was in training since shit broke down a lot and at any point he could be thrust into a situation where those skills were needed. So he worked in those fields mostly. He knew it was because of his red hair that he wasn’t getting paid nearly as much as he should be for those jobs. In fact just yesterday he'd been handed his last paycheck from his current job. They'd fired him due to some absurd reason when Mark knew it was because he was a red hair.

He stepped out of the shower, having begun to shiver from being wet and cold. He grabbed the towel he’d recently been able to wash. It also smelled of Dr. Bronner’s All-One. The soap was really all purpose and he even used it to brush his teeth with when he ran out of toothpaste. It was very foamy and sudsy.

He dried and wrapped the towel around himself as he exited his tiny bathroom and went to the small nightstand-dresser and pulled out a half clean outfit. They didn’t stink so Mark figured they were useable.

He grabbed the towel and ran it through his hair. He sighed and went back to his tiny bathroom. He picked up his comb that had a few teeth missing and looked in the mirror.

He grimaced so hard at his reflection that he swore he broke something in his face. He couldn’t keep eye contact with himself.

The yellow light that made little tinkling sounds as it blinked on and off showed his red fringes of hair and clearly displayed the right half of himself that was badly burned. Grotesque, mishapened, and discolored skin that was plainly visible and unfortunately unable to be fully fixed with plastic surgery. It had happened during the war.

He’d been in a hospital recovering from his surgery to clear a blockage out of his intestines when they were attacked. He’d hid behind his tossed over bed with his crippled nurse, shooting enemy soldiers, desperate to stay alive.

A bomb had gone off throwing the room around. It had killed the nurse and started a fire. So really, Mark had been burned by the heat of the blast and the fire it had created.

The enemy had thought him dead, and had left him to burn. That was how when the reinforcements came found him still alive. He was taken to another hospital with higher security. Once he was as healed as he could get he’d been thrust back into combat once more.

He hated looking at his scars. The burns weren’t just on his face but his entire right side, red, folded over onto themselves, deep into his skin where plastic surgery wasn’t much help, the skin still looked torn up. He also had a few scars from having a tumor and the blockage in his intestines removed along with shrapnel that had been thrown into his body during various times throughout the ten years of war. He found himself hideous. No wonder people stayed clear of him. Each scar reminded him of what happened in the war and every bad memory associated with it.

He pulled at the knots in his red hair with his comb. He noted a bit off handedly that he’d like to re-shave the sides, he wondered if that old barber was still in business?

He’d been a veteran too who had no family. He’d left his little barber shop closed down those ten years. When he had returned with his hair dyed red, his business had drastically declined, but for the few months when Mark had been there last he was offering cheap haircuts and re-dyes. Perhaps he was one of the few that was able to keep afloat.

Mark had gotten nearly all the tangles out of his hair when he heard a pounding on his door. He turned his head to look out of the bathroom. From there he could see the rusty hinges get looser with each rattle.

Wondering who it was, Mark quickly made his way to the door and opened it.

There, fuming with black eyes, was his landlord. “You’re late Fischbach!”

Mark blinked in confusion, “What?” He asked.

“Your rent you dumbass!” The landlord yelled waving his fist in the air.

Mark cocked his head as the landlord went off, raving about how he was charitable enough to give him this place practically for free! That was the real joke here, because that’s what this was right?

Mark shook his head, “I put the envelope in your mailbox last night sir. I swear I did.”

The landlord turned to look Mark in the eye and he shrunk back.

“That’s a fucking lie.” The man said, “I checked this very morning and it wasn’t there. You are late!”

“N-no! I swear sir, I paid!” Mark was desperate. Even if he was late, somehow dreaming he’d put the envelope there he was only a day late. He knew tenants that were months late! And they never had the landlord banging on their door early in the morning looking seriously ready to throw them out.

Mark knew this was an excuse. He fucking _knew_. It was because of his hair. He was about to be kicked out because the landlord no longer wanted to have a veteran of the war associated with his crappy apartment building. Maybe someone with blue or pink hair had wanted the room. God forbid.

Mark was thinking rather bitterly as he listened to his landlord screamed at him that he wanted him out of the building in the next hour.

Perfect. Plenty of time to grab his shit and split.

The words “Yes sir," slipped too easily out of his mouth and made his stomach twist to the point where he’d thrown up if he’d eaten anything recently.

At best he was able to snag a can of soup with some old moldy vegetables and goopy noodles, maybe a banana if he was lucky and at worse two slices of white bread with salt and pepper between them. And he only ate that on occasion, going days without actual food, if you could call that shit food.

The landlord left him to pack. He sighed, shutting the door and going over to his bed. He reached under the cobweb ridden space between bed and floor and pulled out a dusty pack. He shook it out in hopes of getting the spiders off it. A small white container fell out that held old contacts. Mark didn't know if they were out of date or still good, so he just put them back in.

He then packed his only other pair of jeans and his three other shirts including that one nice one he kept for school and interviews. He packed the few pairs of socks and underwear he had. He packed his towel and toothbrush and soap but not before brushing his teeth one more time. He packed his comb because what the hell. He was fairly sure that was everything. His duffle back seemed to sag in on itself from the lack of stuff he was shoving into it.

He also grabbed his glasses from the small cigarette-smelling wooden side table. They were bent and had a lot of scratches but they were still useful.

He looked one more time around the apartment he’d called home for the past few weeks. That was probably the longest he’d been able to hold down a place. He didn’t know why he wasn’t proud of that.

Letting out an almost relieved sigh he opened the door, the hinges rattled, he was sure at least five of the screws were out. He went through the threshold and locked it behind him.

As soon as the door clicked shut yells were heard down the hall. He ignored them when they called out ‘dirty baby killer’ ‘rapist’ ‘murderer’. The names twisted his stomach but he did his best to walk calmly down the hall. ‘dirty murderer’ ‘devil’ ‘red haired rapist’.

Something flew past his head and all instinct set his feet pounding against the putrid green carpet of the hall. He tripped down the stairs falling on the concrete and knocking the wind out of himself. He even broke his glasses.

‘Coward!’ ‘Coward!’ ‘COWARD!’.

Mark felt tears begin to run down his face as pain enveloped his body and he pushed himself up gasping painfully, leaving the remains of his glasses and made his way down farther until he reached the receptionist.

He threw his key at her and continued to run, but not before hearing ‘Dirty bastard red head.’

He stumbled his way into the streets, still gasping for breath. He got a few angry looks from people around him which he paid no mind to. He just had to keep moving, keep going until the thoughts went away.

He tried not to think about the field where his unit died in. Tried not to think about the taste of the dirt and gunpowder he inhaled when ducking down crawling to his commander’s body only to realize he was dead.

He tried not to think about going down into that basement and suddenly getting blood and brain matter splattered on his face as the machine gunner in front of him was shot.

He tried not to think about the trembling of a city he’d once been in when bombs went off. How his legs ached running as fast as he could to the nearest building with a concrete basement.

He tried not to think of the men he’d been with, the sound of the cry as one fell behind, tripping, twisting his ankle. How he’d looked back, seeing his shadowed eyes look pleadingly up asking for help as the sirens wailed.

He tried not to think about turning and running, feeling more than seeing the breeze of the soldier that went back for the one that fell. How they’d later found the two dead under rubble.

He tried not remember the smell of the hospital. The iron of blood and sterile latex.

The white, gray, brown, black of each new landscape. The reds that were the only real color that decorated them.

He tried desperately not to fade out of reality and into a past he wished he’d never experienced. He didn’t want to remember coming home and being spat on, called a rapist, murderer. He didn't want to get news that his brother had died in combat or that his mother had died in a raid. He didn’t want to find out that the rest of his step family had vanished, probably moving and changing their names. He didn’t know what had happened to his friends back home or at war.

He didn’t know what happened to Ken, Wade, Bob, Felix… Sean.

He felt dizzy as his thoughts whirled around in his head. He was stumbling around the city with no real destination, no plan. Literally how his life was now. He'd managed at some point to put in the contacts so he could actually see, they were old and a bit dry, so his eyes got a bit red. He just hoped no one thought he was high.

He sort of got his bearings a while later. It was in the afternoon. He’d found himself in a park sitting on a bench near a pond. It was… peaceful.

Mark listened to the sounds around him. The leaves on the trees rustling from the breeze, the birds chirping their own special tunes and ducks flapping their wings in the water. He felt the slight breeze and smelled the air. It had an earthy, leafy smell, wet too. He watched as people walked past him, giving him at least a fifty-foot radius. Barely anyone went near the pond.  

As quiet and peaceful as this place was, Mark still felt isolated, set aside as an outcast. He felt so alone and unloved. He tried not to let insecurities flare up. Tried not to think about what could have been.

He sighed and wrapped his arms around himself. He curled his chin to his chest and bowed his head. He closed his eyes and wished to disappear.

Hours past and Mark did not move. He refused to and hoped that maybe the next time he looked up, things would be different. People wouldn’t hate him. He could find his family, or at least one of his friends, and they wouldn’t hate him.

Fruitless hope.

His body was getting stiff and it was screaming at him to move. A few more minutes he begged. Just a few more minutes of fantasy.

A shuttering breath left him as he uncurled himself. He slowly opened his eyes, blinking away the blurry dots of color, focusing. He grunted as he stretched, feeling the same vertebrae and joints crack. He relaxed, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck.

He sunk back into the bench. Crossing his arms and looking around again. The sky had gone gray, which did wonders for his mood but at least he was getting fresh air. This is when he saw what seemed like a tuft of grass move out of the corner of his vision.

He felt his air stop when he saw it, a blasphemous hope pounding in his stomach like a pulsing ulcer. His very heart had forgotten where it was supposed to be.

He didn’t know why he felt like this. There were plenty of greens around this area. Why would he think this was Sean, an old childhood friend of his? American born but with immigrant parents so he had to dye his hair green.

For all he knew, Sean was dead or in hiding and would not want to be associated with Mark in any way. Obviously, Sean already had to deal with discrimination due to his heritage. Mark had never saw anything wrong with it and had found his lilting accent adorable… _incredibly attractive_.

Mark would have blushed at his thoughts had he not noticed he was standing and walking towards where he saw the green head disappear to.

Someone caught his shoulder. A man he didn’t know was scowling at him.

He had no idea what this man wanted but he didn’t say anything.

“Listen this is a nice, safe public park and we don’t want you redheads mucking it up with your filth okay? We don’t need you murderers… _rapists_ … making this place unsafe, you are scaring people, keeping them away from the pond to feed the ducks. So I will ask you nicely to leave, _now_.” The man growled and hissed and gripped Mark’s shoulder to the point of bruising.

Mark just wanted to follow the green head, maybe in futile hope of finding a long lost friend. He was already leaving, but he supposed the man meant in subtext to not ever come back.

_Fine_.

Mark nodded calmly, not saying a word. He pulled away and turned, walking away quietly out of the park.

As soon as he was out of sight of the park he broke into a jog, hoping to catch the green head while he could. He wasn’t sure if the bouncing green hair he saw to his left was the same one but he chose to follow it.

He dodged groups of people in the city, most steered clear but some couldn’t get far enough away. Most gave him strange looks, probably thinking he was stalking someone… maybe he was.

He finally saw the green head stop up ahead, at the mouth of a shallow alleyway. As he got closer he saw a familiar face, but now with a beard. Mark’s heart really had stopped. He was sure it had missed a good three beats as he stared at the adult version of his childhood friend Sean William McLoughlin. He was still here, even after the war was over. His legs nearly gave out.

It wasn’t until he registered what Sean was doing did his heart start up again. He was bent slightly, looking down at someone on the ground at the mouth of the alleyway.

It was a red hair! Mark realized, Sean was talking to her, smiling at her and offering her a hat to cover the color of her hair.

Mark felt his world spin, revolving only around the kind man in front of him. He watched the exchange. Heard the woman thank him profusely for his generosity. Sean waved it off, looking happy just to help. “God bless you!” Sean smiled and it was gorgeous and Mark wanted to kiss him.

Mark quickly registered his thoughts and pulled back. What? After all these years? Really? Those feelings were still there? No wonder Mark’s heart was constantly erratic in his chest.

He let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding as Sean turned. Mark ducked behind some trash cans and watched as the man that had apparently kept his heart all these years later walked off.

Mark couldn’t help the impulse to follow, like a little lost dog, and maybe that’s what he was. The kindness Mark saw still in Sean that he’d given the other redhead brought him hope. Perhaps, Sean could accept him, could love him, could make him feel safe again. That was too much to ask for. God, he _knew_ that but still he followed and watched as Sean went about his day.

It wasn’t until a crack of thunder opened up the sky in a down pour that Sean went into a building. A one-story lit up grocery store that looked to have just been restocked.

Mark stood outside, in the rain getting soaked. He really was a lost puppy, waiting for a kind soul to come out and find him. And he wanted that soul to be Sean’s. For it to be tangled up in his, even for a moment. Hoping at the very least to be friends again.

Mark watched people come and go from the grocery store in the rain. The thunder reminding him more of his own heartbeat for once rather than gunfire. It reminded him that he was alive, that maybe that was good and there was a chance. So Mark waited in the rain for that chance to come back out.

. . .

The down pour seemed to last longer to Mark than it really had. Maybe a few hours, three max. Still, that was a long time to stay out there in the rain, and an even longer time to stay in that grocery store. Yet, just after the rain stopped, Mark saw the green haired man at the checkout.

His heart freaked out in his chest as he watched the man carrying two paper bags, overstuffed with food, push open the door.

This caused him to run before he was spotted, not far away, into a very dark alleyway. He pressed his back against the concrete and brick wall. The smell of wet brick and trash filled his nostrils. It was too bad that the smell was so familiar to him. He was soaked to the bone and he felt so cold pressed against that wall.

He peered out at the mouth of the alley and he saw, walking down the street, the man that had preoccupied his entire day.

Mark felt his mouth unhinge at the sight of the green haired man. Bathed in the sunlight’s last gleam of the day, orange and yellow glowing around the man in a warm halo. A breeze blowing his green hair around his face framing it and deepening the gorgeous blue crystals of his eyes. He looked ethereal, and angel bathed in heavenly light.

As he got closer to where Mark leaned frozen, the red haired man saw the man stall in his step just beside the alley and smile. It was a dreamy, peaceful smile that had Mark’s heart rocketing out of his chest and even out his throat, to lay bare on the dirty ground of the alleyway.

Mark couldn’t take it anymore. He had to touch him. Had to some way reassure himself that this beautiful being was real, and Sean hadn’t died some time before this and he was just seeing an angel.

He hadn’t realized he’d yanked the man into the dark alley with him until he felt hands on his arms and legs trying to get their feet to stomp on his own. He felt the pull of the man trying to get away, and blindly, but not violently pushed him up against the wall.

Mark was breathing heavily, trying to think of a way to calm the man down. He wasn’t going to hurt him. Even if it turned out to not be his old childhood friend, he’d apologize and hope the man didn’t send the police after him.

Desperately Mark’s brain tried to process his options. What could he say, what should he say? Finally, leaning in, a name slipped out; hoping that the man would hear and understand, at best recognize, at worse realize a mistake.

“Sean?”

The man in his arms stopped struggling for a moment, shinning eyes in the dark looked widely at him. A flash of recognition perhaps? Mark prayed it was true.

His voice was small with trembling lips, “God, even after all these years,” he leaned closer, desperately wanting to be closer, warmth seemed to radiate off the green haired man. “You’re still so… pretty…” What was he saying? What was he saying?! That sounded crazy, because it was a goddamn lie, the man before him wasn’t pretty! No he was astonishing, dazzling, so much so that Mark swore he could picture him with wings. His hand was shaking as he brought it slowly, agonizingly slow to brush against that green hair and slide over the ear as he spoke.

He felt the breath against his face stutter as he lay his hand heavily on Sean’s shoulder. He had to catch his breath as well. This was so overwhelming it was insane. He stepped back to breathe.

It wasn’t until a light shined suddenly on his face that he reacted, quickly turning his face to the right to hide his scars from the light. A breath from the man, vaguely sounding like his name… He stared at the man behind the light.

He suddenly felt a twist in his gut at the thought of this beautiful man seeing his ugliness. Even so, when the light kept searching he did not move.

When the light found his scars, he flinched slightly and looked up to the man before him, Sean. He saw for the first time, really what he looked like up close. This had to be Sean, sure he had a beard, but he still had those same big bluer than blue eyes and rounded adorable face. He had already seen that smile he always had in his dreams about him. Yes, this was Sean, his old childhood friend, and could-have-been lover. The fact that all that left his mouth when he saw the scars was a small gasp and not a scream, had Mark’s heart filling with hope, that just maybe, he didn’t have to be a could-be.

“Mark.” The name, clearer now, had Mark’s very soul singing.

Sean seemed to scramble to put away his phone, before wrapping his arms tightly around Mark’s neck, pushing against him. “God I missed you.”

Mark leaned back to steady himself. Then put his arms tightly around Sean’s middle. Warmth filling up his cold insides. He wasn’t sure how comfortable Sean was pressed against his wet form but he’d be damned if he was about to let go.

Mark hadn’t realized tears were falling until he pressed his face into Jack’s neck. They were happy tears of relief. This man wasn’t running from and screaming at him. He was a little self-conscious putting his scars on Sean’s bare neck though.

Then his head was being lifted and he could see slight tracings of tear tracks on Sean’s face to.

It was a moment after that he registered the fact that Sean was touching his face. Both sides and slowly wiping tears away. He was hyper aware of Sean’s left thumb moving over his right cheek but could not detect any difference in the way that hand moved from the other.

“Oh Mark.” Sean’s voice still held the ever present brogue of his Irish decent, making Mark’s name sound slightly breathier and crisper at the same time.

He couldn’t help but lean into Sean’s left hand feeling for the first time someone else touch his old wounds other than him. He was staring up at Sean, pleading him for something. He wasn’t sure exactly what, but he was desperate for it.

Sean was looking back at him, emotions shifting in his eyes, making Mark nervous as to what was about to happen next.

Would Sean pull away, turn and run? Mark bit his lip at the thought, feeling his heart already cracking at the idea. Maybe he should pull away first, run away first… he was good at that. Good at being a coward. He would only risk his own heart in running now. Sean never had to see him, this mess that use to be his friend, again.

He felt something soft suddenly press against his lips the moment after the glint of his friend’s eyes disappeared. He stiffened for a moment, frozen in disbelief before melting into Sean’s embrace.

His heart pounded in his ears as his lips tangoed with Sean’s. This was the moment where he felt free, safe. Every burden that had been placed on him, whether manufactured in his own head or by the society that hated him; was all gone now that this beautiful creature was flushed against him, kissing him.

His body on autopilot, he took a few steps towards the wall again, pressing Sean’s body against it again. Almost automatically Sean’s legs came up to wrap around Mark’s waist, pulling him impossibly closer.

Sean’s hands were once again on his cheeks wiping unknown tears away. Fuck, he couldn’t help it, he’d probably never stopped crying in the first place. He was so scared that this was just a rare dream and when he opened his eyes again Sean would be gone and he’d have to deal with another day of fighting for normalcy alone.

They had to come up for air eventually but Mark didn’t want to move too far. He couldn’t take his eyes off him, fearing Sean would melt into the brick wall.

When the glimmer of Sean’s eyes left his to look up to the night sky sprinkled with stars, Mark laid his head on Sean’s shoulder. Breathing heavily, hotly onto the skin Mark felt the urge to kiss him again, feeling he’d die if he didn’t.

Gently he put his forefinger to Sean’s chin and pulled him back down to meet his lips. Their beards scratching together.

Once again lips met and neither could distinguish where one started and the other’s ended.

Words came tumbling out from his lips as soon as they left the safety of Sean’s. “Do you know… how in love I was… with you… all those years ago?” He said between kisses, pulling Sean into one more as he finished the statement. He’d said it, he finally said what he’d been holding in since high school.

The violent pull and gasp that came from Sean suddenly made Mark regret the words that left his traitorous mouth. No! No no no no! He can’t lose him now, not after this! Not after this!

“M-Mark!” Sean’s eyes seemed to bug out of his head, and he was panting after dragging himself away.

Mark felt he could do nothing but stare, holding him against the wall and hoping that Sean wouldn’t push him away. He felt Sean’s hands begin to wipe the tears that were falling again, this time in fear. Amazement barely registered as they still were touching both sides of his face, even with one disgustingly mutilated with scars.

“Mark?” a quiet question of explanation now.

His chest spasm-ed with his rapid heartbeat and uneven breathing. “I, I love you… I have since we were teenagers. I just… I wanted to tell you before I left.” He had even made a plan, but when the soldiers came he knew there was no way he could get there in time. He buried his face in Sean’s shoulder again, brushing his torn up skin on the bare nape. There was also a realization back then as well, “But I couldn’t lose you like that! If I had lost you as a friend then, I don’t know if I could ever find it in me to come back home.”

Sean began to cradle his head and he suddenly went limp against him. All energy draining out of him, he just wanted everything to be okay.

He felt a finger under his chin, coaxing him to look back up along with the sound of Sean’s voice, “Hey, hey look at me.”

Mark did as he was told, looking up, there was a dim silhouette across the face of his beloved.

“I love you too. I have since freshman year. I didn’t think I’d ever get to tell you.” Sean leaned down and Mark leaned up to catch each other in another kiss, chaste this time.

With a wet smack their lips parted, but still Mark felt the burning heat of his chest pressed close against Sean’s. Mark sighed as Sean began to fidget against him.

“So um… how’s your family?”

Oh yeah that’s right… they haven’t seen each other in ten fucking years. Sure, just start making out with your long lost friend that you’ve apparently loved for all that time and then forget that real life is a thing.

Honestly, Mark wanted to go back to that as he reluctantly set Sean gently back on the ground. In doing so he had to pull away more, and the sudden chill of the night air made the clinging shirt colder. Mark shivered.

“Uh-um,” Mark was stuttering and ringing his hands as coherent thought returned. He tried not to think too hard about memories the question brought up. “T-Thomas, he and mom um… Th-they’re gone.”

Immediately at the mention of his family, tears sprung from his eyes like fountains, sending waterfalls down his cheeks again. God why was he so pathetic? Before the thought could fully register in his mind Sean had his arms wrapped around him again, and warmth flooded back into his cold, wet body.

This was the first time in ten goddamn years that he’d felt some sort of physical comfort from another person, felt save to be in the presence of another human being. It was honestly heaven but still Mark pushed explanations past his lips as Sean held him. “Tom d-died early in the war, he was in the first waves. And s-someone broke into my m-mom’s home during a raid. I-I haven’t been able to find out where my step-mom and the rest have gone.”

Sean didn’t need explanation on his father who had died a little before the war of cancer. His last words to him had been ‘I love you’. It still hurt to think about but at least then he’d gotten to say goodbye. He hadn’t with anyone else in his family.

Mark felt Sean give him a reassuring squeeze and damn did it feel good. “Most of my family fled to Ireland, haven’t heard from them since. Malcom still around somewhere, he calls me sometimes…. Felix is gone.”

Malcolm, Sean’s older brother. Felix… a blond and blue haired boy with blue eyes like Sean’s. He’d also been from a family of immigrants, had spoken with a thick Swedish accent and sometimes even simply spoke the language when he got frustrated if Mark could recall correctly. He’d been in Mark and Sean’s group of friends along with Ken, Bob, and Wade.

Wasn’t he dating someone one when he left? Mary? Martha? Mark pulled away slightly to look expectantly to Sean. This was the first news he was hearing of his old friends. And already he was learning they were gone too. He’d lost more people he cared about than he thought.

Sean looked away from Mark’s searching eyes, biting his lip in worry, “Three years in, during a riot. Marzia too. The rest left with you.”

Marzia! That had been the girl, her hair had been pink… oh god no wonder the two had been killed. The colors of the enemy! And the rest… Ken, Bob and Wade, Ryan, Matt, Tyler, Jessie. They’d all been sent overseas too, ‘with him’ but never had he seen them as the war had spread so far that they probably would never see each other again if they were even still alive!

This, unsurprisingly, depressed Mark. He watched as his friend took a deep breath and looked back to him.

A small smile playing on Sean’s features as he asked, “Have you been drifting?”

A bit embarrassed at admitting it but never the less was going to be truthful, he nodded, keeping his head tilted down.

He saw as he looked up through his lashes Sean looking down at him lovingly, at least he hoped so and it wasn’t a smile of pity.

“Do you need a place to stay?”

Mark’s head shot up at the idea that Sean may be about to ask him to come stay with him. Mark felt hope once again begin to burn his scarred heart inside his chest. He nodded again, still embarrassed about seeming so helpless.

Hearing Sean giggle like that made Mark’s heart hurt as he took his hand, “Well, I can offer you a place to stay with me?”

Fuck did Mark want to kiss him again, desperate to show his affection and appreciation for the Irishman. This having been the first real hospitality given to him since his return to the states. Damn it seemed this wonderful little green haired man was the start of a new beginning for Mark. Boy was he excited for it! Enthusiastically Mark nodded his faux-red head smiling brightly.

“Okay.” The word was so gentle as it caressed Mark’s ears as Sean pulled Mark out of the alleyway and into a lit up streetlamp.

There Mark saw what a mess he’d caused the Irishman when he’d grabbed him. His blush that had been burning his cheeks, from the mix of embarrassment, affection, and happiness, turned more to the embarrassment side as it grew deeper.

Quickly Mark bent down and began to gather up the produce hoping to salvage most of it and put it in the bags Sean had been carrying.

As he made himself busy with the tidying he was focusing on he felt a jolt of surprise go through him when he felt Sean’s hand bump into his when they both reached for the plastic carton of sugar cookies. Mark stared in awe at the smile Sean gave him afterwards. This made the blush burn brighter, especially when Mark noticed the equally bright happy blush across Sean’s cheeks. God did he love this man!

They each stood up, Mark holding his tongue to ask to carry both bags in repayment for making Sean drop them in the first place.

But he watched Sean shift one of the bags into one arm while he took the other and entwined their fingers together and squeezed his hand ever so slightly as he held it.

With that the green haired man was tugging the red haired one along, through the blocks that would eventually lead them to the home they’d be sharing.

. . .

Mark followed Sean into apartment and let his eyes adjust before surveying the room. As he looked around, he felt a pang longing. This apartment was by no means a pent house. However, it was at least twice as big as Mark’s last apartment. By god he didn’t think he’d been in a place so clean, fresh smelling and looking lived in instead of trashed since he’d gone off to war.

He gaped silently behind Sean, following him deeper into the apartment to set the bags down on the counter. Sean then ordered him to change out of his damp clothing. He lead him to the bathroom so that Mark could change in privacy.

When he came back out Mark watched as Sean put various veggies and small steak bits into his cast iron skillet and a bit of olive oil. He felt immediately obligated to help out, but he had no idea where the cutlery was or dishes. He looked to Sean desperately and his friend seemed to read him and he got out dishes and silverware that Mark instantly took and began to set out while Sean went back to the stove to stir.

After the table was set and the food left to simmer Mark looked to the other groceries they’d sort of put away and spied the plastic container of sugar cookies.

Mark noticed Sean eyeing them too. They shared a look and quickly grabbed two each, sniggering and getting crumbs all over the place. Still there was a constant silence that surrounded them, cutting in when they stopped laughing.

Sean seemed to be contemplating a lot, during the silences. Maybe Mark should have been doing the same, but what else was there to think about other than how amazing and safe he felt in this nice warm home with the one person he loved the most?

The contemplation seemed to end when Sean deemed the food on the stove done and dished it out.

Mark looked at the food like a starved man, and maybe he was. He hadn’t had a home cooked meal like this in for-fucking-ever and he didn’t think he could fall more in love with Sean before this. Now he was seriously considering proposing that very night. Damn, he didn’t have a ring…

Mark was sure he looked _very_ attractive inhaling the food and then promptly moaning in pleasure at how wonderful the food tasted and how fulfilling it felt in his stomach.

He blushed when Sean raised a bushy eyebrow at him. “Its-it’s really good Sean.” He quickly looked away from the intense blue gaze and continued to stuff his face. Mark felt he’d choke on his fork with how fast he was shoving food down.

He heard Sean put down his fork and stare blatantly at him. “Mark?”

Mark snapped his gaze to meet Sean’s but quickly looked away in fear. Was he being too disgusting? In the light of the kitchen could Sean now clearly see his scaring and found he didn't like what he was seeing? “Yeah?” Had his voice quivered a little?

“Well, um. Listen, there was an incident a while back and… I don’t go by Sean anymore. It’s Jack now.” Mark took another bite of his vegetables, slowly processed the information as Sean—Jack?—continued. “I just thought maybe I should let you know. In case you wonder why my neighbors call me Jack.”

Mark was staring, he knew that, and he could feel the green bean hang heavily on his lip, watching the man across from him bite at his own. “Oh. U-um, okay.” The green bean fell off onto his plate again.

Mark really had no idea how to take this information, really how was he supposed to react? Was he just suddenly supposed to call his best friend by a different name? What was this incident? Was Sean hiding something? Was he ashamed of himself? Had Sean been seriously injured or imprisoned? Paranoid thoughts ripped through his head, frowning.

“Y-you can still call me Sean, just, just in private though, I don’t need the Fed on my ass again.” Quietly Mark heard Sean chuckled and was smiling softly. Mark knew he was trying to break the tension between them.

The smile made the corners of Mark’s mouth twitched upward as he went back to his food. “Okay.”

Mark felt like a pig as he was finishing up the food on his plate. He felt his stomach gurgle softly still asking for more and he hoped Sean didn’t hear it. He honestly felt bad eating all his food, but suddenly his plate disappeared and he watched Sean dish him the rest that was in the pan.

Mark was about to tell him he didn’t want to seem greedy (gluttonous really) but Sean asked a question that made his blood run cold. “Mark. Could you tell a bit of what happened after you left, between then and now?”

Pale, Mark followed Jack’s movements with a slightly agape mouth as he set the plate of food down once again, full.

Once Mark had gathered his thoughts he picked his fork back up and put another bite full into his mouth before he began to talk. “Well, I was shipped off senior year. I’ve been trying to get a GED but with all the negativity towards veterans I have to rely heavily on the government, and they’re just a bunch of helpful assholes right now.”

Obviously he was being somewhat bitter in his sarcasm but hearing Sean laugh at his obvious joke helped him to feel better about all the shit he’s gone through.

“I’ll be lucky to get it by next fall, if ever. I’ve also had to rely on them for food stamps and means of getting jobs, I’m sure you’ve noticed that hasn’t worked out fantastically.” Mark was now getting slightly depressed, remembering just that morning. The night before had been the last time he’d get a paycheck from _that_ company and he’d used it to (he fucking swears) pay his no-good landlord. Now he was officially broke.

He continued to look down at his food he was pushing around his plate, when he felt Sean take hold of his hand and give it a slight squeeze. He looked up to see the Irishman’s smiling face. Sean’s next words warmed his heart, “I’m here for you. I’ll help in whatever way I can.”

Mark felt his face split in his grin. “Thanks,” He looked around the apartment, still in awe about how nice it was, “For everything.”

Mark watched the smile widen and Sean squeeze his hand again before going back to his own unfinished first plate.

Mark decided to continue, strategically avoiding the events that actually occurred during the war, “I’ve been camping out in crappy apartments, with what little money I have. The landlord just today kicked me out. I was searching for another place when it began to rain… and that’s when I saw you.” _I was actually searching for you,_ a little stalking but it didn't hurt anyone.

Mark gazed adoringly up at Sean hoping to show his paramount of love he felt for the little green haired man through it.

Mark found himself blushing as Sean looked back with equal amounts of adoring emotion in those beautiful blue crystals.

Sean nodded and smiled brightly as he said, “I’m glad you saw me.”

They finished the meal a little while later. Sean began to collect the plates and Mark insisted on helping him clean up.

Sean allowed him to dry the dishes after he’d washed them and showed him where they went afterwards. It didn’t take long since there were only dishes used for two.

After they’d finished that Mark felt Sean take his hand and pull him towards the living room made clear by the metal connecter between the kitchen’s tile floor and the living room’s carpet and sat them both down on the dark green couch.

“Mark?”

At Sean’s tone Mark began to fidget on the cushions of the couch. His gaze was shifting from Sean’s face (avoiding his eyes) to looking around the room.

“Is there anything else you’d like to talk about?”

Surprised that it wasn’t a direct push in the direction he was thinking this conversation was going, he blinked and actually thought about what he wanted to know. A lot of things came up but perhaps he should ask about Sean. After all, the way he talked, Sean wanted Mark to live with him in this apartment, and he should probably know what the hell he’d been up to as well. Maybe more light could be shined on why Sean was now Jack to his neighbors.

“Well, what have you been up to?” Mark finally said.

Sean nodded, “Growing potatoes, making computers, participating in propaganda to keep my head above water, surviving riots and raids…”

Sean paused for a moment seeming to think either about what had happened during those times, or pondering what else he wanted to say.

When he shrugged and remained silent Mark prompted, “You had to change your name.” putting his hands overtop Sean’s as if to say that that specifically was what he wanted answered. Mark found it extremely weird to have to refer to his friend by a completely different name. Maybe he’d get used to it if Sean kept him around long enough.

Sean nodded again, “But I haven’t changed. It’s just been a long time since I had the opportunity to be so energetic and happy.” Mark felt Sean squeeze his hands as he smiled.

He could help smiling back.

“Mark, do you want to talk about what happened during the war?” Sean had left him an out for this, making it into a question. Asking if it was okay to talk about.

Still, Mark tensed and he could already tell his mind was fading to the memories of his time at war. Mark shook his head. He did not want to relive those experiences. He wished he could forget them, never have to deal with them. He was also scared that he would flip out, or Sean would see him as weak… cowardly if he started to cry as he spoke.

Mark came back to the present at the warmth spreading from his face. His eyes snapped to Sean’s as he realized he was touching his scars again. “Mark, you know you can talk to me about anything. I’ve heard all the horror stories. You aren’t scaring me away.”

Mark desperately wanted to believe his friend as he held his gaze. He put a hand on Sean’s left. This was the hand that was touching the horribly mangled skin. The physical reminders of the war. The gentleness the touch held almost scared him. Mark himself never even touched them with this much care. Affection was heavily implied by the touch, and it was no different from the touch on his left cheek.

Sean leaned forward and laid a gentle kiss on Mark’s forehead. Still very aware of the burns littering all his right side, he felt the lips brush both the unmarred and marred skin there. Mark registered that the lips didn’t try to avoid the scar tissue. It was like it wasn’t even there.

Mark stared back at his companion on the couch, breaths coming out heavily as he tried to tell of his time at war without really thinking about it. “It… it was a lot of fire, death. Nothing I could stop on my own I… I don’t know how to describe it. I remember feeling, numb? Cold? At the beginning it was like the harshness of reality was dragging knives over my skin, sending goosebumps down my arms and tingles in my chest. Or maybe it was the blood I felt drying and cracking over my skin? But after so many years of that, I couldn't feel it anymore.  I watched so much destruction… whole towns get leveled, with people still inside them...

“We’d march for hours, then if we couldn’t get to the next town we’d just camp out in holes we dug that evening. I wasn’t always in combat; near the end of the war I was mostly escorting prisoners to camps. But at the beginning… it was bad…”

Mark stopped talking, unable to stop getting lost in the tangle of memories that flooded his psyche. Vaguely he could feel the couch beneath him and the warmth of Sean in front of him and hands tangled with his own. But that didn’t stop his mind from making the cozy apartment and the love of his life melt away to burning fields littered with dead bodies, white hospitals painted red with the blood of their occupants, gray brunt out buildings, and streets full of broken wood and twisted metal.

“Mark? Hey, you’re okay.” When Sean began to touch him again, Mark was forcibly pulled back to the present. Suddenly his eyes overflowed with tears, entire rivers falling onto his cheeks. His eyes still clouded with unwanted memories; he felt ready to collapse.

Sean hugged him, whispering in his ear, quiet compared to the screams and explosions that were filling his ears. “It’s okay. Hey, hey you’re okay.”

Mark was sobbing into a shoulder he wasn’t sure was real, speaking to someone he was sure was a ghost. His mind screaming ‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry!’

The words that were leaving his mouth were horribly mangled as he watches the tall burly man in black and camouflage holding a huge gun walk down the steps looking around. A little bit of light falling in from a busted out window. Mark is behind him carrying a few dozen rounds of bullets, he’s only a few steps behind.

Suddenly there’s a loud bang and Mark jumps letting out a shriek as blood and brain matter splatters on his face and glasses.

The man in front of him falls down the rest of the steps, a chunk of his head with little bits of hair is stuck to the wall.

Mark stumbles and falls back mouth gaping, his entire body shaking. He stares down into the dark cellar, the broken body laying at the bottom. He barely hears the cries of the men behind him. Four pass him on their way down to bring the body back up. Two of them run back up the stairs. Mark is left on them, sitting below the window, warm tears flowing down his cold blood stained cheeks. The men bring the body up.

An hour later they come back for Mark, taking him up the steps his arms around their shoulders. They stop for a moment before taking him to the medical tents. They watch as the two men who found the sniper throw him to the ground to his knees. Mark watches the execution of the sniper that shot their machine gunner. Unable to look away, but not cheering with the rest of his squadron.

The memory faded to another.

A field they are crossing, out in the open. Night falls and they dig. Mark lays in a hole, possibly his own grave. In and out of sleep until suddenly loud gunshots are heard. The unlucky fools that stand up are shot. Mark watches as forty men fall or shout out before silence. With each scream that is suddenly cut short he knows that another one’s gone.

Mark crawls as quickly as he can to where he knows his sergeant is.

He shakes the shoulder but then he realizes as a flash of artillery go off that his back is bloody and has a deep hole that doesn’t go all the way through his chest. Flayed muscle and shattered bone stick out from the hole and Mark balks.

He hears the field go silent and he hears men’s voices and they are coming his way. He has two options, stand and risk getting killed by the enemy or risk getting found by his group and fleeing. Or staying down and hiding.

He tucks himself against the wall of a shallow trench, pulling the sergeant’s body in with him. The limp body falls and Mark hears a bone crack.

Shaking he gets his small form under the body and slows his breathing. He tries not to breathe too heavily or move at all.

He shoves his face down into the dirt, rocks push up against his nose and into his eyes, breathing in his nose is filled with the smell of iron and dirt. He knows he’s crying again and he desperately tries to keep his breath even and not make a sound as boots pound the dirt above.

The sound gets fainter, all noises gone, the sun comes up, but Mark remains still, sleep deprived and fear ridden. Now what?

He is suddenly running. Sirens scream and wail, his vision is so shaky and he feels more tears down his face at the panic that grows his chest like a parasite.

A cry from behind and a glance later finding another soldier on the ground, “Help!”

Mark turns back around continuing to run as another soldier runs back. He enters a crumbling building and heads to the basement where he finds ten others. He sits in the corner and curls up.

Five hours later they come back up when it’s silent. Their building had lost its five stories, and the streets were cracked from falling rubble.

The woman in command demands those that aren’t dead to search the rubble, in hopes to find some still alive and get them to the medical vehicles that have arrived. Or simply to clean up the dead bodies.

Mark doesn’t know why he walks so calmly down the road that he’d run. He starts picking through the broken pieces of concrete and metal.

He looks onward a little and sees what seems to be a hand sticking up between cracks. It’s unmoving.

He goes towards it and begins to pull away the blocks of broken buildings.

The hand is pale, stiff. Mark takes it after a few heavier pieces are removed. He pulls. The body he pulls up is bright orange greasy hair. His head has a large bloody dent in it. An eye popped out of its socket. His soldier uniform ripped.

Mark tugs away more rubble and finds the second soldier there as well, crushed.

He is told to kill the prisoners that tried to escape or else he’d be shot for allowing them to get so far.

They are tied and pressed to their knees before him. His commanders behind him, a gun pointed to his head.

He raises his gun, the prisoner’s eyes look up imploringly. A cry for mercy, a plea for his family. BANG.

Down the line he goes, reloading when he runs out of bullets. The group of twenty-seven men and women, some not even eighteen yet. He can’t bear to look them in the eyes. He watches his gun, black and bloodstained push into their foreheads. He watches the bullet pass through their skull and their heads jolt back.

One kid, seventeen, blue eyed stares up at him. He’s last, he’d just watched all the others die. Mark makes the mistake of looking down at him, remembering another blue eyed youth he’d shared a childhood with.

As the bullet passes through his head Mark can’t see it, tears fall on the corpse as one word rips through his mind.

_Sean!_

“It’s okay Mark. It’s alright. You’re safe. I love you. You are a wonderful, beautiful person and I love you. It’s alright, Mark. You’re safe, you are a good person. Everything is okay. You’re wonderful.”

Mark slowly returns to the present. He felt Sean’s lips caress his hairline by his ears… his right ear, the one burned by the fires. But those weren’t real anymore, Sean was. The painful scars, physical sin, reminders of the past. Sean was touching them, kissing them as if they weren’t there.

“I couldn’t-t save them- _m-m_! I killed them! I would-d rather h-have been h-h-h _ere_! N-not out there with the b-b-bombs-s-z and _gun_ fire, the _cold_ and _blood_.” Mark dissolved into tears, loud sobs ripping from his throat, no more words could make it past the lump in his esophagus.

Mark’s head had fallen onto Sean’s shoulder, sobbing grossly into his neck. Mark was being held, as he felt the gentle tightness around him, the warmth and reassurance of Sean holding on to him, whispering softly into his ear.

_Safety_.

He was shaking hard and breathing heavily, hiccupping pathetically.

Sean’s hands were suddenly on his neck and cheeks again pulling him away from the comfortable spot pressed against Sean.

Mark felt panic rise in his chest as he was pulled away only to have Sean stare into his eyes intently and his breath hitch as Sean connected their lips.

There was a moment of tension before he melted into his best friend’s touch. Sighing dizzyingly and desperately pressing closer, Mark felt Sean’s hands rub over his scars.

Mark couldn’t help his urgent movements, a need to be closer to the one thing that didn’t treat him like a sin.

The way Sean touched him, touched his deformities, his sins, as if they were not there. As if the physical scaring on his face, neck, and entire body didn’t exist. These sins that bled through his psyche to be seen rising from his skin. They weren’t there. Not to Sean.

By circling his thumbs over the scars and smooth unmarred skin of his cheeks, even brushing his fingers over each side of Mark’s neck, it was like Sean was saying he wasn’t seeing the sin, the wrong doings Mark had committed. _He was forgiving them._

Sean was forgiving him for his crimes, loving him despite what he’d done. Loving him, when everyone else hated him.

Tears were pushing their way past his eyelids, his cheeks fully soaked with the saltwater. He loved this man against him, loved him with everything he had, his very life essence needed Sean.

Mark nearly whined when Sean pulled away. They were both panting hard, pulling air into their accursed lungs.

Mark felt utterly exhausted as he let out a huff and his head fell to Sean’s shoulder, tears draining from his eyes.

He nearly groaned, he was so tired, but still he was scared to sleep. After all that’s when the dreams… nightmares came.

Slowly, once again, Mark was pulled away from Sean’s heat, two hands cupping his cheeks. He looked at the blue eyes scanning his red puffy face. He leaned into Sean’s touch, mostly to his right, because he loved the feeling of Sean’s hand against his scars, it made him feel like they weren’t there. That he looked normal.

Sean sighed and kissed Mark’s nose. “Let’s go to bed.”

Sleep sounded both wonderful and terrifying, but god did Mark want to believe that Sean meant they’d be at least in the same room when they slept.

Mark took a deep breath and nuzzled into Sean’s hand.

Sean smiled at him as he got up and Mark was quick to follow. Mark grabbed his duffle from beside the kitchen table as Sean took his hand to lead him to his room.

Mark watched for a moment as Sean began to strip down to his boxers. Mark turned red and quickly looked away, not wanting to be perceived as a creep.

Sean gave Mark night pants to change into as he said, “I’ll go into the bathroom so you can change.” And he walked out the door.

Mark changed quickly, finding the fluffy, yet tattered pants to be beyond comfortable. After all he’d mostly been sleeping in his clothes if sleeping at all.

Still when Sean came back he was standing with his duffle over his shoulder as if he’d soon be asked to leave.

With a smile Sean said, “Your turn.”

As Mark passed the Irishman he felt a hand brush his back. His face reddened further.

He found that Sean had left the bathroom door open and the light on to alert Mark of its location again. Mark locked himself in and pressed himself against the door. This was insane. More of a miracle. Mark couldn’t remember a time where he felt so happy and safe and _holy shit_.

He splashed some water on his face and got into his duffle bag to get his toothbrush. He looked to his soap and then at the toothpaste on Sean's counter. He opted to take a chance and use the toothpaste. His breath was minty fresh and he decided to do a bit of business before washing his hands and exiting the bathroom.

Still he was so nervous, did he head to the couch, try and find a guest room or just go back to what Mark could only assume was Sean’s bedroom.

He found the man already snuggled into the covers that looked beyond fluffy and felt a pang of longing in his chest. Lamp light bathing the room in a soft yellow. He moved towards the bed, aching to lay down in it, to be close to the heat of Sean. Still Mark didn’t know if he should even be in here.

Sean sat up, and grabbed his arm pulling him a tad roughly onto the bed with him.

Mark let out an undignified squeak as he tumbled in beside the Irishman.

Immediately the green haired man yanked the covers up to tuck them around Mark’s frame and then clicking off the light and snuggle close.

Mark felt slightly chapped lips rest against his pectoral for a moment, warmth spreading from that area to his heart right below it. Mark relaxed a little into the touch. The right side of his face was marred with burns but his entire chest was of a similar state. Sean didn’t even seem to notice the scaring.

Mark stayed awake a little while longer. Feeling fatigue pull at him, dragging him under. He pulled Sean closer subconsciously and he felt the same lips ghost over his peck again. He shivered at Sean’s attentions to his ruined skin. He loved the man so much, and if this man could love him, even with his scars and burns, then maybe he could start to do the same.

. . .

Sean is tied up on his knees before Mark, as he holds a gun to his head. Mark would be shot if he doesn’t kill him. Mark knows he’s a coward. He’d left a soldier behind in favor of saving himself, he hid himself under his sergeant's dead body, he hadn't gone to help find the sniper. He was a fucking coward.

But is he so much of a coward that he is willing to kill the man he loves more than the world, the sky, the universe, just to save his own stupid life?

Sean looks up at him through his green hair streaked silver. Wide blue eyes that are slowly killing Mark. His gun moving slightly to readjust for the movement of Sean’s head.

“Well you cunt, shoot him!” An officer says behind him.

He knows if he doesn’t shoot Sean _they_ would. He’d die either way. His hand is shaking as he holds the gun.

Sean is still looking up at him, Mark can’t take his eyes away. He watches as Sean’s lips pull back into a reassuring smile. It breaks Mark’s heart to see it.

“It’s okay Mark.” Sean’s soft voice filters to his ears. “Really it’s okay. I forgive you.”

Mark sobs at the statement. The words kill him. He can’t do this, fuck he just can’t.

He falls to his knees in front of Sean throwing the gun away. A coward he is, but he wasn't ever going to kill Sean to save himself. No, he rather die than do that.

He bows his head as he feels a barrel of a gun press into the back of his head. He looks to Sean in front of him.

“Mark.” Sean says sadly, “I love you.”

Mark nods and braces himself as he feels lips press against his own and the gun sounds.

He woke with a bit of a jolt. His mind was still groggy. He shuffled around and sleep pulled him back under quickly, to the smell of a nice warm coffee and a smiling face of Sean handing him the mug.

A little while later he felt sun begin to soak through his eyelids and he mustered himself awake.

He blinked, not recognizing the nightstand beside the bed, nor the actual bed he was in. His mind was processing everything rather slowly, all that was coming to him was that this bed was soft as fuck and warm and he didn’t want to get out of it.

When everything from the day previous finally clicked back into his brain, his eyes snapped open fully. He was stiff and anxiety took over his mind. Would Sean kick him out? Was Sean even in bed with him or did he go to the couch?

Here it was, the first day and Mark hoped it would be the start of a new beginning.

Squeezing his eyes shut Mark tried to banish the negative thoughts away. Stiffly he slowly turned to look on the other side of the bed.

He saw beside him the pale back of Sean, green haired muzzled on his pillow. Sheets around his waist, his boxers peeking out from underneath them a little.

Mark couldn’t stop staring at the curve of Sean’s spine underneath pale spotted skin. He wanted to reach out and trace it.

He nearly did, but held back, he didn’t want to scare Sean away. Mark began to rustle the covers, honestly on accident because he just wanted to get comfortable to continue to stare at Sean when Sean rolled over.

Mark froze, his eyes glued to the man in front of him. The smiling Irishman of his dreams. His heart stuttered. For a moment Mark feared Sean would yell at him to get out. But when he saw that radiant smile he relaxed and smiled back. His heart happily fluttering.

Slowly Mark watched Sean slide closer to him, putting a warm hand on his shoulder. Pulling closer a soft “G'mornin’ sweetheart,” was whispered and Mark’s heart soared.

Sean pulled Mark into a morning kiss and Mark was scared at first because of morning breath, but as with the scars it just didn’t seem to be there anymore.

Sean was persistent, even with their lips being slightly chapped. Mark wrapped his arms around Sean’s thin figure pulling him as close as possible.

The kiss grew a bit heated and Mark felt his movements become a bit jerky as Sean threw a leg over him to straddle his hips, the sheets dropping to their hips. Mark’s head spun as Sean gazed down at him. He grabbed the man above him by the hips to ground himself.

Mark belatedly realized that Sean was scanning his entire body, looking ready to devour him regardless of the skin’s gross texture and pigment. Mark fell in love with Sean more as a result, feeling once again the Irishman seeing him as normal, maybe even beautiful. Mark couldn't help but see Sean as the same, beautiful ethereal being. An angel bathed in heavenly light once again.

There was still so much to discuss, so much to learn and fight against. _But this we can do together_ , is what Sean’s touch was saying, and that only meant there was more life to be lived, together.

Sean leaned down and Mark leaned up to catch each other’s lips once again, relief exhaled by sighing. Many more times to come were promised for their lips to brush so passionately.

He wrapped his arms tightly around Sean’s back, pulling him down closer. Their naked chests brushed and Mark felt enthralled.

He felt Sean smile as birds sang and he even heard a few bells ring. Still. He was so glad this is where they were beginning; up in Sean’s bedroom, after the war.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're reading this, you fucking made it. Here is virtual sugar cookie. Straight out from the plastic container. God motherfucking, four hours of sleep. Goddamn.
> 
> Also! HAPPY VETERANS DAY FROM THE US OF A! Yes we are still here and we are still appreciating our brave soldiers! 
> 
> Thank some veterans for their services, take 'em out to dinner, treat them like a person even if you don't agree fully with what they did or their morals concerning war. Appreciate your freedom today!


End file.
